


Lena Luthor's Last Love

by lostariels



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet Ending, Closure, Do-Over, F/F, Forgiveness, Goodbyes, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Heartbreak, Lena Luthor Knows Kara Danvers Is Supergirl, Love Confessions, Missed Opportunity, Old Age, Regret, Time Travel, post-reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2020-12-13 17:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21001766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostariels/pseuds/lostariels
Summary: “You’re a terrible liar, you know. You always were; it’s what made it hurt the most, when I realised that you’d been lying to me the whole time.”“I’m sorry,” Kara breathlessly apologised, gripping her chest with one hand as she faced the door, her heart aching painfully.“I missed you.”Kara clenched her jaw as pain blossomed in her chest, her eyes burning as a pressure built up behind them, and she drew in a deep, shuddering breath, before her shoulders went slack, the breath rushing out of her all at once.“I missed you too.”“Stay for a bit, please. We have so much to catch up on.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [triangleshape19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/triangleshape19/gifts).

“I have an appointment,” Kara told the screen set into the wall, in lieu of a front desk, where a vaguely humanoid face, without the specific features, lit up the screen.

The words were difficult to get out, her throat constricting and her mouth dry as she balled her hands into fists, one of them clutching the bouquet of flowers she’d brought with her. She almost hadn’t been able to bring herself to follow through with the visit, feeling agitated as she lingered in the lobby of the place, everything so white, so spartan and clean, an almost chemical coldness to it all. It _ still _ wasn’t too late for her to leave, but Kara knew she couldn’t leave now. Truth be told, she _ wanted _ to be there, had been waiting for so long for this moment. To leave now would be to deny herself her last chance.

_ “Who are you meeting?” _

Swallowing thickly, Kara fought to keep the wavering tremble out of her voice, her insides knotting with nervousness as her palms turned clammy. “Lena Luthor.”

Kara’s expression was an ashen look of regret that flitted across her face, as if she was nauseous, her face pinched with fear. Of course, she _ was _ scared, and with good reason. The last time she’d spoken to Lena, it hadn’t gone down well, and her whole life had fractured afterwards, leaving Kara alone and heartbroken, although she’d never even had the chance to tell Lena that part.

_ “Lena Luthor. One hundred and twentieth floor; suite two hundred and thirty-nine.” _

The voice of the computer was lilting and warm, and Kara felt unnerved by it, even after all this time. Artificial Intelligence always put her on edge, with good reason, but it made sense that Lena would be surrounded by her own creations - she _ did _ own the entire building, or so Kara had heard. 

_ “Please scan your hand.” _

Standing on the circular platform before the computer screen, Kara glanced down. Red lights had radiated from the white circle, and as she was granted access, the lights changed to green. A moment later, a clear cylinder came down from the ceiling and enclosed her within the elevator, and with a hiss, a circle in the ceiling opened up to a dark shaft.

She rose quickly through the building, without feeling the speed of the movement. One moment she was standing in the spacious, empty lobby and the next the elevator pod was depositing her in the middle of the one hundred and twentieth floor, the cylinder disengaging with a quiet hiss, before ascending into the ceiling to free her from its confines. It was some of L-Corp’s tech, she knew that, much like everything in the world these days. Computers, generators, engines - all of it was manufactured by L-Corp. Everything from what they ate, to the medicine they needed for rare diseases that _ hadn’t _ been cured at Lena’s hand, to the foundations of the smart building she was in now, all of it a testament to Lena’s innovation. Kara felt a spark of pride amidst all of her anxiety.

Slowly, Kara stepped off the platform, flowers in hand and swallowed thickly, before making her way to the door on the right and finding that it was suite _ 240 _. Crossing over to the left of the empty space, catching a glimpse of the high-rise buildings soaring hundreds of feet up into the air through the window that served as a wall behind her. Everything was covered in a faint haze the colour of a bruise, the air cleaner than it had been in decades due to L-Corp’s eco-program, but still muggy and cold, plants creeping over buildings in efforts to reduce the CO2 in Metropolis.

Kara couldn’t help but think about how much good Lena had done in their time apart, how much she’d achieved and how she hadn’t been there to witness it, to congratulate her and feel that warm glow in her chest when Lena smiled with pride. Still, Kara had felt that pride for her, watching from afar as she expanded her company and made leaps and bounds with her technology. So much good and she’d done it all without Kara’s, perhaps even in _ spite _ of her, using her anger to fuel her. Lena was always better when she had something to prove, and she’d proven that she hadn’t needed her. Not at all.

But still, it stung to stand there, knowing all she had missed out on. There had been the tech unveilings for nanites, the hoverboards and medicine finally perfected from the Harun-El. There had been TEDtalks and benefit gala’s in Lena’s honour, and Kara knew that there wouldn’t be any potstickers on the menu anymore. She’d watched from the comfort of her sofa as Lena’s space centre was unveiled, and a museum with all of her combined research efforts, made into tourist attractions for kids and adults alike before that money was taken and turned into Nth metal wonders that changed the world for the better. Her legacy was a long one, that much became clear to Kara. The name Luthor was no longer shrouded in wary anger for deeds that Lena didn’t commit. At some point, she’d managed to free herself from the burden of her brother, and Kara hadn’t been there to see the relief, the joy, the proof that Lena needed to show that she was good, even though Kara hadn’t needed a shred of it to prove what she’d always known.

And now, standing outside the door to suite two hundred and thirty-nine, heart hammering in her chest, Kara found that there was nothing to prove now. No wounded pride or hurtful words, but bittersweet regret and apologies. She could give her that much at least, give Lena the only thing she’d asked from her in all that time. Kara hadn’t expected to hear from her again, to be honest, although she’d never stopped hoping, and the moment felt surreal as she raised a trembling hand and pressed it against the glowing red handprint on the door.

It scanned her hand and lit up green, and with the quiet hum of an automatic door, it retracted upwards and left her staring at the blindingly white room, the ceiling radiating harsh fluorescent light, although there weren’t any lights, as per se. And it was just as sparse as the lobby downstairs, a single bed occupying the middle of the room, a solitary stool set beside it. A table with two flat squares for seats folded out of the wall to the right, kitchen facilities built right into the wall, while the left held a door that Kara could only assume was the bathroom and a series of cupboards. There were no paintings, no curtains for the windows which could be turned opaque at the touch of a button. No lamps or books, nothing personal at all. It felt cold and empty; it made her sad.

And the sight of the woman in the bed, tucked beneath the heavy white blankets made her heart ache even more. Kara felt a painful lump close up her throat as the bouquet of flowers drooped in her hands, her shoulders going slack with shock. She’d known, of course. Kara had come here expecting this, but the harsh reality of it was a slap in the face.

Dark hair had gone to steel grey, starting to turn white. Heavy eyebrows had lightened and thinned, the sharpness of her face had given way to age, her skin withering and wrinkling, as pale as ever - perhaps even paler - and looking paper-thin, green veins tracing their way beneath the skin. Her heart was like a fragile hummingbird’s, so rapid and faint. Failing. But her eyes … Lena’s eyes were the same as the day Kara first looked into them. Clear and alert, a fierce spark of intelligence and that stubborn determination. For someone who was a hundred and twenty-seven, Lena looked surprisingly well.

“Hello, Kara,” she said, her voice just as strong, despite the fragile look of her old body as she lay propped up on fluffy pillows, almost blending in with her surroundings in white cotton pyjamas, making her look even more washed out. “It’s been a while.”

“A hundred and one years, five months and thirteen days,” Kara heard herself saying, without even meaning to. 

She was too wrapped up in the familiar sound of her voice. It took her right back to Lena’s office, all those years ago. That voice had comforted her and supported her in a time when they’d been inseparable, and just like that, it was a century ago and they were both young again. Kara still might’ve looked it, but she didn’t feel it in her bones, in the weary droop of her shoulders after so many years of life dragging on. 

Her voice was the same. When Lena said her name, nothing else mattered. Not the decades, the betrayal, the loss of each other’s company. She said Kara’s name the same way she always had, sounding so sweet and safe in her mouth. Kara stood there numb inside the doorway, clutching the flowers as she willed herself to stay standing on her unsteady legs, feeling as if the rug had been pulled out from underneath her.

Lena gave her a strained smile, her puckered lips stretching, the lines at the corners of her eyes deepening with amusement. And then she raised a thin hand and gestured towards the flowers. “Are those for me?”

“Oh, um … yes.”

“Plumerias,” Lena softly said, a distant look of pain in her eyes, “they’re even rarer now than the first time you brought me some.”

Not knowing what to say, Kara nodded. She clutched the bouquet so tightly in her fist that she had to make a conscious effort not to break the stems, a hollow shakiness inside her as she stood awkwardly just inside the doorway of the suite. It smelled like chemicals and pressurised air, cold and impersonal and not at all like the warm, comfortable place Lena should’ve been in, with family. She should’ve been with Kara, being taken care of, not left to robots and AI’s to take care of her needs. Kara knew that she didn’t need much taking care of, with all the leaps and bounds she’d made with her medical research, extending her own life to the point where she barely looked older than seventy and was probably just as physically fit too. 

“Would you mind putting them in some water for me?”

Nodding again, Kara silently moved towards the kitchenette, fumbling through the cupboards until she found a glass carafe and filled it with water at the small sink. Putting the bouquet of white flowers into it, she left the carafe standing in the sink and then turned, wiping her hands on her coat. Under Lena’s intense stare, Kara felt vulnerable and ashamed, her eyes darting around nervously as she looked everywhere but at Lena, and mostly just at her shoes.

After a moment, she nodded resolutely and drew in a shaky breath, before throwing a grim smile at Lena, still not meeting her eyes. “Well, I just wanted to drop them off for you. I should get going; I can hear a siren somewhere.”

It was a lie, and they both knew it, yet Kara hunched her shoulders and turned, striding towards the door as quickly as she could without looking like she was running away. Of course, that _ was _ what she was doing, but it had been a mistake to come and see Lena. To see her in this place, alone and so thin, a whole lifetime etched into her face. A lifetime that Kara hadn’t been a part of, except for a short while. That was nothing in comparison to the years she’d missed out on. And now, it hurt to be here, to bear witness to all that time that they’d wasted, couldn’t get back now.

As Kara neared the door and reached out, fingertips grazing the middle of the panel as she went to lay her hand flat on it to open it again, Lena spoke from behind her, her voice sounding suddenly weak and trembling, full of emotion.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know. You always were; it’s what made it hurt the most, when I realised that you’d been lying to me the whole time.”

“I’m sorry,” Kara breathlessly apologised, gripping her chest with one hand as she faced the door, her heart aching painfully.

“I missed you.”

Kara clenched her jaw as pain blossomed in her chest, her eyes burning as a pressure built up behind them, and she drew in a deep, shuddering breath, before her shoulders went slack, the breath rushing out of her all at once. 

“I missed you too.”

“Stay for a bit, please. We have so much to catch up on.”

Kara closed her eyes as she bowed her head, her face crumpling with pain before she managed to compose herself. Slowly, she turned, taking in the open expression on Lena’s face, softer than she could’ve imagined, given how cold and angry Lena had been last time. Apparently, time had diminished her anger, as well as her body, ravishing her muscles and the parts of her that hated Kara, until she was tired and spent and so old that all she wanted to do now was make peace.

Nodding again, Kara moved towards the stool set beside Lena’s bed, hesitantly lowering herself down onto it as she finally met her eyes again. Up close, she felt even more nervous, so on edge that her shoulders were taut beneath her coat, and Kara felt something akin to dread in her stomach. It was dread for all the time that she’d wasted by not chasing after Lena, because how could she have grown so old without her? How could she have left Kara so young and immortal, and gone on without her, just like everyone else?

She was all Kara had left now, except for J’onn. Everyone else she’d ever loved was gone now, lost to old age. Alex had been the most painful to bury, and thirty years hadn’t been long enough to dull the sharp pain in her chest at the thought of her sister. But the fact that Lena was still there had always been a small comfort to Kara, to know that she was living her life, building her legacy to continue on into the future. And now she was all she had left, and Kara didn’t even know that woman lying in bed just a few feet away from her.

“You haven’t aged a day,” Lena softly said, voice coloured with awe as she raised a hand, almost as if she was going to reach out and touch her face. “I knew it, of course, but to see it … you look the same as the last time I saw you.”

Kara nodded, fiddling with her hands in her lap as she scrambled for something to say. Anything. She had grown into herself over the years, her anxious rambling growing into more confident conversation, her exuberant optimism more subdued as the losses piled up and the endless fighting for Earth wore her down. So she didn’t babble on about anything, like she used to all those years ago, blustering her way through lies about flying on buses and how she was conveniently there to save Lena every time she needed to, whether that was with a red cape hanging from her shoulders or not.

“And you’ve done so much since then,” Kara eventually replied, halting and uncertain.

Waving a hand dismissively, Lena let out a snort of laughter, her lips twitching in their usual wry manner, something achingly familiar that made Kara flinch back slightly. Pushing herself up further in bed, a movement that made Kara’s hands thrust themselves out and helplessly flutter around her as she rose halfway from her stool, Lena sat upright, the blankets pooling in her lap. She was thin shouldered, yet not as frail as age made her look, and she gave Kara a placid smile.

“I merely laid the foundation. True, I changed the way we use technology, for the better. I made the entire platform for AI’s and droids and making sure we had alternative resources, but it was my daughter that did most of the work. Now, it’s my great-granddaughter.”

She paused for a moment before giving Kara a slight smile, “did you know I had a daughter?”

“I- I heard. I kept tabs on you, but I never- well, I gave you the space you wanted.”

“I named her Kara, you know,” Lena whispered, a sorrowful look in her eyes as she tilted her head to the side and stared at her, “I named her after you. You were my light. My hope. My love. And then you broke my heart.”

Lena drew in a shuddering breath that seemed to shake her whole chest, the breath rattling around inside her, before she dissolved into a fit of coughing. She leant forward to reveal the bumps of her spine through her thin clothes. Kara reached out again, feeling another stab of pain, of guilt, of regret, before Lena settled back down and patted her chest. She should’ve come sooner.

“I adopted her after that, when I was older, and she was all of those things instead- instead of you.”

Face lighting up with joy and tender love, Lena gave her a wavering smile.

“She’s the greatest thing I’ve ever done. My greatest legacy. My Kara. But you … you were always my greatest love. I think … I can say this now, when I couldn’t all those years ago, but I believe, truly, that you were, and always have been … the love of my life.”

Tears welled up in Kara’s eyes. Hot tears of anger and devastation, of terrible sadness and fresh heartbreak. “Why didn’t you _ tell me,” _ she whispered, her voice thick with accusation.

Her eyes filled and the tears spilt over, wiped away by deft fingers that didn’t know the ravaging of age, and Kara scowled, cheeks pink with embarrassment as she gave Lena a searching look of pure anguish. Eyes shining with the threat of her own tears, although Lena had always been too stoic to ever let them fall, even when she was young, and almost certainly not now in her old age, Lena gave her a tragic smile, full of sadness and bitterness. 

“Because I was angry. I was so _ angry _ with you. I thought I’d get past it, eventually, but then time went on, and I grew older, and you didn’t come after me, and I thought that you couldn’t possibly love me, so perhaps it was better to stay away. But it wasn’t better, and I grew older, and I had a child, and I thought, well, at least time will make it easier. Only that it didn’t, because how could it? Time might be able to heal old wounds, but it can’t heal something that’s _ gone. _ Something that’s been cut out of you.”

She let out a heavy sigh, her chest almost seeming to cave in as it deflated, and Kara choked back a sob as she looked at her. Looking at Lena, she’d never felt such a crushing blow before, knowing that so much could’ve been different if she’d just _ told her. _ How many times had she wrestled with the notion, spent nights pacing back and forth, knowing that Lena would hate her if she told her, only for it to come true when it had all finally come out that night at the Pulitzer party. That had been the night that she’d lost her, the night that had set the courses of their lives on different paths, ones where they weren’t in each others.

“I solved the theory of time travel, you know,” Lena continued, her voice shaking and feeble, “I figured it out, and I thought- I thought about going back. I thought about going back and forgiving you, righting the wrong of my reaction, even if I was justified in my feelings. I was sixty then, and I thought about how much of your life you had lived, and how it was selfish of me to go back and ruin the course of your life all for myself. I always wondered what became of you - not Supergirl, but _ you - _and I thought about how you’d have yourself a nice life, a quiet one, and how you didn’t need me coming in and ruining your future happiness over an old grievance. You probably didn’t even think about me anymore.”

She drew in a deep breath and swallowed thickly, and Kara balled her hands into fists in her lap, drawing in shallow breaths through her nose as she kept her lips pressed into a flat line, trying to keep the quiet sobs at bay as her eyes burning fiercely with tears, hearing all this spill out of Lena now, after all this time.

“And then,” Lena softly sighed, the sound wispy and tired, “and then I thought I’d just seek you out. You were still here, why did I have to go back in time and ruin things? I could apologise and forgive you, and I wouldn’t ruin your life. But then I looked in the mirror, and I saw the signs of my age. How my hair was greying, the crow’s feet that were there even when I wasn’t laughing. I was turning into an old lady, and you would still be _ exactly the same _. Perhaps it was pride or vanity, but I couldn’t come to you as a grandma.”

“You should’ve come,” Kara choked out, the words strangled and hoarse. “You should’ve come back, or found me. You should’ve told me to come - I would’ve come back. My life has been _ nothing _ without you.” 

Cutting off, Kara closed her eyes and turned her head, unbearable pain slamming into her. It seized her in its grip and she felt it tighten in her chest, stealing the air from her lungs in a moment of shattering realisation as the truth buried beneath time and distance finally came to the surface. 

“Everyone I’ve ever loved is gone, except for you. I have nothing left anymore. It hasn’t been happy, or nice. I loved you, I’ve always loved you. I have mourned you _ every single day _. I saw you in everything, in every moment. I can’t count the number of days I woke and you were the first thing I thought of or the nights I fell asleep thinking about you. You were always with me. My life has been empty and meaningless without you in it. I’ve loved you since I was twenty-six; I’ll love you my whole life.”

“Oh, _ Kara,” _Lena sighed, a tear rolling down her cheek as she reached out a withered hand, bony fingers splaying.

Rising from the stool, Kara found herself perched on the edge of the bed, her hand in Lena’s cold one, her thumb brushing away the tear with a tender look on her face. She was so warm, and Lena was so cold, and she wrapped her small hand in both of hers, clutching it against her chest.

“_ Come with me. _ Let me take care of you. You don’t belong here, alone.”

Her voice was low and fierce, her eyes pleading and full of so much love. Lena couldn’t help but pity her. Kara didn’t want her pity, she wanted her to say yes. This drab room with its harsh lighting, the cold floors and the sterile feeling to it all, right down to the paper-thin pyjamas that washed Lena out so much that she could’ve been a corpse lying in the narrow bed. It was no place for someone to live. It wasn’t a home; Kara could give her that at least.

“I would only be a burden.”

“No,” Kara breathlessly sobbed, her voice hitching as she gave her a mournful look, “it’s not a burden. Please. We’ve wasted so much time - let me have this much. Don’t deny me what little of it we have left.”

“I don’t _ want _ you like this,” Lena said, her voice strained as her expression crumpled, “look at me. _ Look at me, Kara. _ I’m an old woman now. Don’t waste your time on me.”

Freeing Lena’s hand, Kara gave her a wounded look, confusion creasing her brow as she rose from the bed, standing beside her and swallowing thickly.

“I don’t- wha- why did you invite me here? If you don’t want me then- why would you ask to see me?”

“I wanted to see you one last time,” Lena murmured, an apologetic look on her face. “I wanted to see what my decision cost me. To tell you that I forgive you and that I love you.”

A small cry fell from Kara’s lips as she sat back down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to cup Lena’s face in her hands, feeling the papery feeling of her thin skin, the softness of the wrinkles and the frailty of her jaw as she cupped it gently, giving her an urgent look. A defiant look, one of stubbornness and refusal to accept what Lena had said.

“You can’t mean that. Let me take care of you. I don’t care how old you are. It changes nothing. _ Please _. Why’re you doing this?”

With a quiet cluck of her tongue, Lena gave her a pitying look and gripped Kara’s wrists in her bony fingers and gently pried her hands from her face. Looking at her with such unbridled devastation, blue eyes wide and shining with tears, Lena felt an ache in her chest and let out a wispy sigh, before she held her arms open.

“Come here.”

Kara went willingly, like all those times she’d dreamt of doing so, except in her dreams it was with a youthful woman with dark hair and smooth skin. She had the same eyes though. In some ways, it didn’t feel real. It _ could’ve _ been a dream, Kara _ wished _it was a dream. That she’d wake up in her old loft apartment across the country, that she’d get a call off her sister that morning, and go to L-Corp with Big Belly Burger and sit on that couch with Lena, feeling the nervous warmth of her budding crush on the young woman in her chest. She wished it was a dream so that she could wake up from this nightmare of wasted time and potential, so she could spill her heart out to Lena before it was too late, before she ruined everything and lost the only person who’d ever owned her heart.

Still, she went willingly. Curling herself up on top of the thin mattress in the narrow bed, she fit beside Lena on top of the covers and buried her face into the sharp jut of her collarbone and cried. She wordlessly sobbed against her neck, her whole body shaking, while a hand gently rubbed her back, and Kara knew that she wouldn’t be the same for it. For the small moment of intimacy, to lay in Lena’s embrace for the first and last time, to feel the frailty of her ageing body and the keen loss of time, the way her heart fractured into pieces that would never be pieced back together. It was a kind of loss that Kara didn’t have words for.

Despite the fact that she had every urge to flee at the beginning, Kara stayed for the rest of the afternoon, lying beside Lena, keeping her thin body warm as they dwelled in the last moments of each other’s company. She kissed her slender hands and the soft, weathered skin of her cheeks, her forehead, her eyelids, caressed the small scar beneath Lena’s eyebrow and traced her hollowed-out cheeks. She pressed her cheek against her heart and lay there, listening as she was consumed by sorrow and gratitude in equal parts. Kara was grateful for the time she had with her, however short it had been, grateful that she’d known her, that she’d experienced a love for her so strong that decades and distance couldn’t even make it disappear.

They held each other on the bed, in the freshly laundered sheets, in each other’s arms, and they said all that they needed to say. Kara told her that she was beautiful and that she was sorry, red-eyed and hoarse as she said all the things she’d bottled up inside her over the years. And Lena repaid her in kind, holding her hand with her own liver-spotted ones, a slight tremble in them as she told Kara about the trial and error of her AI development, which had eventually ended up in every home on the planet, about her efforts in the poverty-stricken countries and how she’d worked hard to develop sustainable communities. She spoke about her grandchildren, and what it had felt like being a mother, painting a picture of the life Kara could’ve had with her. 

It was bittersweet and heartbreaking, but they both cherished every moment, feeling time slip by like sand through their fingers. The day wore on and the sun outside started to sink on the horizon as the soaring spires of buildings shifted their shadows as they lengthened, and before her very eyes, Lena seemed to diminish. She looked more tired, smaller, more like the old woman she was instead of the young woman that she’d sounded like as they’d talked and talked. Her eyes were ringed with purple bruises and she sagged against the pillows, and with a pit in her stomach, Kara knew it was time to leave, and she knew that it was goodbye for good. Lena didn’t want her to stick around and waste away, despite the fact that Kara would’ve stayed through to her very last breath.

Freeing herself from Lena’s embrace, Kara climbed off the bed and stood beside her, drawing in a shaky breath as her eyes shone bright with tears, even as she forced a smile on her face, trying her best to be optimistic, like she always used to be. Back when they first knew each other. It was the least she could do. She could fall apart later, but she could be strong for Lena, just for one more minute as she held her hand and said goodbye.

“Thank you for this,” Lena said, a grave look on her face as she clutched tightly to Kara’s hand, “thank you for humouring an old lady one last time. I know it might not be what you thought, what you expected … but it has- it’s brought me more peace than you could know.”

Swallowing the painful lump in her throat, Kara nodded and then cleared her throat, her voice scratchy as she met Lena’s eyes and asked her one final question. “Can I ask- was it- was it worth it? Did you live the life you wanted? I mean, if you could do it all over again … would you make the same decision?”

“No,” she rasped, “no, I wouldn’t. I would choose you over all of it, and that … is the biggest regret of my life. The only life I ever wanted was one with you, and I let my wounded pride ruin any chances of that happening. For that, I am deeply sorry.”

“And so am I,” Kara hoarsely replied.

“You weren’t my first love,” Lena slowly said, a pensive look on her face, “but you’re my last. The love of my life.”

“And you’re mine.”

With a strained smile, Lena’s eyes shone with tears, and she raised Kara’s strong, tanned hand in her own frail one and pressed a featherlight kiss to the back of it, before gently giving it a squeeze.

“You’ll love again; you’re young. Don’t let me be your last love. But … think of me when the sky is pink,” Lena said with a soft smile, her eyes drifting towards the view out of the window, where the sun was just starting to set, while a lavender haze engulfed the base of the towers. “It’s always been my favourite time of day. It used to be full of the possibility that you were going to show up on my balcony soon. I would wait for you, did you know that?”

“I’d hear your heartbeat while flying around and check in on you,” Kara said with a weak laugh as she wiped her cheeks, realising that she was silently crying. “I still listened for it every day until you moved to Metropolis.”

Lena sighed in a wistful manner and gave her a sad smile, her old eyes full of regret. “Maybe in another life, in a different world.”

“I didn’t want you in a different life or world; just this one. Thank you for giving me that, even for just a moment.”

“I wish we could’ve had more time. I would’ve liked that.”

“Me too,” Kara said with a choked laugh, a fleeting smile curling her lips.

“Goodbye, Kara Danvers. It has been the greatest privilege of my life to know and love you.”

Drawing herself up to her full height, Kara drew in a shaky breath and then leant down to gently kiss Lena’s cheek one final time, before carefully removing her hand from her cold grasp. Pressing her hands to her chest, she backed away from the bed, all the way to the middle of the room, as if she didn’t quite trust herself to leave if she was by her side. And then, with tear-stained cheeks and a broken heart, Kara smiled once more, wide and bright and shining with love, a smile to take Lena’s breath away one more time.

“Think of me when the sky is pink; I’ll be thinking of you too.”

Swallowing a sob, Lena nodded as she lay limp against the pillows, grief crumpling her face slightly as her resolve finally wavered and she gave in to the pain of their last meeting. Pressing her hand to her mouth, Lena looked at her in all her glory, while Kara got her last glimpse of those piercing green eyes and knew she’d never love anyone again, despite what Lena thought.

“Goodbye, Lena Luthor.”

Pressing her hand against the centre of the door, Kara watched it retract upwards and stepped out of the room without turning back. And then the door shut behind her with the quiet mechanical hiss and she fell back against it, shaking with silent sobs. Kara didn’t even make it to the circular platform in the centre before she fell apart, her crying muffled by the hand clapped over her mouth.

She couldn’t say how she managed to get out of the building, only that suddenly the sterile lobby was gone and the AI _ Hope _was saying goodbye and Kara’s heart was heavy as she let numb legs carry her outside, into the cold evening air. It ruffled her hair and caressed her cheeks in a reminder that she was very much alive, even though she felt like a part of her had just died, a pit opening up in her chest, a hollow void that would never be filled again. And as she whipped her glasses off to angrily wipe at her eyes, her suit materialised and she found herself shooting upwards, up into the liberating feeling of the sky spread out before her, fleeing the heartbreak of the only woman she’d ever loved as she left her in that miserable place, all alone.

And then she paused, hovering midair, struck speechless and breathless as she looked out at the sky that was slowly turning pink. Rose and salmon coloured streaks painted the sky as the sun sank behind the city and down to the horizon, and Kara’s tears dried on her cheeks as she looked at the sunset and thought it was the most beautiful one she’d ever seen. And she thought about Lena, and how beautiful she was, and how she’d spent her whole life loving her, and while Kara didn’t think she’d ever be okay again, she felt a faint warmth blossom in her chest. She listened to the hummingbird heartbeat from the suite in the towering building below her, and she thought about Lena and knew that Lena was thinking of her too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINE i'm a coward and i am incapable of Not fixing things when it's bittersweet and not wrapped up in a bow with a nice happy ending so here we go. i'm atoning for my angsty sins with a part 2 (and 3 when i get around to it) bc i made Myself sad and the guilt has been eating away at me. being mean is Not a good feeling

Lena turned at the sound of the door opening, a brooding look on her face as she expected to see her new assistant, another young woman whose name she couldn’t remember in the long string of other ex-assistants. The day was over, she could go home, was what Lena was planning on telling her, feeling the heaviness of exhaustion weighing on her shoulders as she lingered in the doorway of her balcony. Most of her employees had already left for the day anyway.

Instead, she turned to find a stooped old lady with hair that was starting to turn white letting herself into Lena’s private office. Mouth opening and closing, Lena found herself caught off guard for a moment, eyebrows rising in surprise and a flicker of curiosity inside her as she stared at the stranger.

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t be in here.”

The old woman let out a frail laugh, waving a hand as she shut the door behind herself, her footsteps careful as if she was on ice, expecting to trip and kiss the floor. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Lena spluttered as she turned away from the door, quickly crossing over to her large desk, ready to push the silent alarm button to bring security to her office. She didn’t feel threatened by this stranger - just looking at her assured Lena of that - but still, a senile old woman breaking into her office somehow wasn’t something Lena felt like dealing with on a Tuesday evening, the day on the cusp of sunset and a long night ahead of her.

“How did you get in here?” Lena haughtily asked.

A white keycard flashed in the woman’s withered hand, and she gave Lena a slight smile, the puckered skin of her lips stretching as white teeth flashed. “It’s astounding what you can get away with, with a little bit of confidence, the right words and keycard. I’d almost forgotten how fun it was.”

“How did you get that?” Lena flatly asked.

Even if the woman had a keycard, it shouldn’t have been authorised to get her up to Lena’s floor. And if it _ was _ for Lena’s floor, it shouldn’t have gotten her past the door leading to her private reception, where her assistant should’ve been, although Lena was now realising that she must’ve gone home already too. Whoever this woman was, Lena felt uneasy in her presence.

“Are you threatened, dear? Do I frighten you?”

Lena quietly scoffed, her mouth curling into a lopsided, sardonic smile, her face sharp and eyes hard. She bristled slightly at the insinuation that she was scared of an old lady, one who looked so small and fragile that a stiff wind could’ve bowled her over. If someone wanted to hurt Lena, they wouldn’t have sent _ her _, that was for sure. Yet there was an inkling that made Lena’s skin prickle. A feeling of familiarity, a sense of wrongness to the encounter that made her pause, before she scoffed again.

“No.”

“You should be,” the woman cautioned her.

There was a faint smile on her lips as she slowly but surely crossed the tiled floor, rounding the desk as Lena stood rooted to the spot behind it, and hesitantly neared the open door leading out onto the balcony. She turned and looked at Lena, giving her an intense stare, before she smiled slightly, her weathered face softening with amusement.

“I’m the most dangerous person in the world. Not physically, of course. But intellectually. I’m the smartest person on the planet. Yes, even smarter than you, at the moment.”

“What are you doing here?” Lena asked, her mouth dry as she licked her lips, brow furrowed with confusion.

Nodding her head to the open door, the old lady smiled, her green eyes tender as she gave her a pitying look. “Come. Let us talk outside; it’s been too long since I felt the fresh air on my face. Indulge an old lady, won’t you?”

Without invitation or response, she stepped outside and shuffled towards the wall enclosing the balcony, and Lena was left helplessly following after her, almost drawn to her. For some inexplicable reason, Lena felt like she _ knew _ her. There was a nagging feeling of familiarity at the back of her mind, as if she’d seen her before, even though Lena knew she hadn’t. She never forgot a face. 

But looking at the woman, dressed in what almost seemed like pyjamas, with the white slacks and white shirt, and a long overcoat that looked something like a lab coat, Lena couldn’t deny the feeling that she _ did _ know her. Cautiously stepping outside, she walked over to the wall and stood a few feet away from her as they stared out at the sky stretched over the city. The sun was sinking down, and the sky was almost salmon coloured, with just a faint hint of rosy pinkness to it.

Glancing sideways, Lena gave the woman a surreptitious look. She was a few inches shorter than Lena, stooped in her old age, although they must’ve been nearly the same height when she was younger. Her hair had gone grey and was turning white, giving her a washed-out, wan look with all the white and the grey pallor to her alabaster skin. Everything about her seemed faded, yet there was something in the way that she carried herself that gave Lena a glimpse at the strength she must’ve had in her youth, something of a regal bearing in the tilt of her chin, and a sure sign of stubbornness too.

“Who are you?” Lena asked after a moment.

“Do you truly not know me, Lena?”

The wind ruffled their hair as they stood side by side, the muffled sounds of the city far below and a heavy tension blanketing them. Lena drew in a shaky breath, her shoulders taut and her stomach clenched, waiting for some sort of blow, some twist to this strange interaction.

And then the woman laughed, a raspy sound, quiet and light, and she turned to look up at Lena, her green eyes bright and mischievous, her lips quirking up into a lopsided smile as she raised an eyebrow. It caught Lena off guard, her breath hitching slightly as she violently jerked away. Blanching, Lena stared at her with wide eyes, a prickle of fear making the hairs on her arms stand to attention as her spine shivered with icy coldness.

She knew those eyes. Up close, she could see them properly, and Lena knew them. They were as familiar to her as, well, her own eyes. The eyes that had stared back at her in the mirror every day. Yet here, they were set into a face of wrinkled, brittle skin. Lena couldn’t stop herself from reaching up to touch one of her own cheeks, staring at the woman with queasy horror, her skin smooth beneath her touch, untouched by the ravages of time at present. 

Yet, the more she looked at the woman, the more she realised the truth staring her in the face. That was her nose, the same strong bridge that gave her a stern look. And beneath the loose skin sagging from her jaw, there was the hidden curve of her jaw. And there … one undeniable, tiny mark of proof. Below the woman’s eyebrow, a tiny scar buried in the creases of her crow’s feet.

Unable to stop herself, Lena reached out with a trembling hand and gently brushed the scar, feeling a tightness in her chest, her breaths coming shallow as she gave the woman a bewildered look of confusion. And for some reason, there was a flicker of anger there too, burrowed deep inside her and glowing cherry red like burning coal. She didn’t know _ why _ she was angry, only that she sight of this woman - of _ herself _\- scared her, and that made her angry.

“Yes,” the woman softly breathed, “I’m you. You in a hundred years.”

“Wha- how- I- I … what are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to tell you about your life, Lena.”

There was a pause as Lena stared at her, at herself, feeling some strange feeling spread throughout her body, a sense of numbness and detachment, as if she wasn’t really there. It felt like some sort of bad dream.

“Isn’t there- aren’t there rules about this sort of thing? If I know how things happen, won’t it change the future? What if I try and change something?”

With a quiet chuckle, the older version of herself gave her a strained smile, her eyes full of sadness and regret, and maybe just a spark of hope. “Oh, I’m counting on it. When I leave this place and go back to my own time, I’m hoping that I cease to exist as I am. That the future diverges and takes another path that leaves me behind.”

“Why?”

“Because my - _ our - _life is not a happy one, my dear. And I come to you now, asking you to rethink your decision. Don’t let your wounded pride ruin your life.”

Lena scoffed and let out a strained laugh as her stomach dropped. It must’ve been some sort of nightmare. This pale imitation of the woman she was sure wasn’t real, standing here telling her how bad her life would be one day. It couldn’t be real.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She made to turn away, to head back inside, but a featherlight touch on her arm brought her to a stop. Staring down at the thin hand, the bones jutting out in a skeletal way and faint liver spots marking the porcelain skin, Lena felt a lump rise in her throat. Glancing up, she met a pair of urgent eyes, almost fearful, and breathed in the talcum and perfumed smell of the old woman, her eyes burning slightly. She couldn’t become _ this. _ Lena didn’t want to spend a century wasting away all alone, reduced to a faded ghost of the strong-willed woman she was at present.

“You do,” her old self replied, a tremble in her voice as if she was going to cry, although her eyes were dry. “You know what I mean, and I’m here to tell you what it’ll cost you.”

“Why _ you? _”

With a faint laugh of surprise, she smiled, the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes deepening as her lips stretched and smoothed out the wrinkles around her mouth. She could see herself in her then, see the familiar smile and it made her feel lightheaded.

“You wouldn’t listen to anyone else. I could’ve sent Kara back. I could’ve sent any number of people, but I know how I was - how _ you _ are. I know you’re too stubborn to listen to anyone, except yourself, so I’m here to tell you to listen.”

_ “Leave.” _

Lena was blunt and abrupt as she brushed off the old woman, feeling shaken to her core as she swallowed thickly. She didn’t want to listen to her, to have her know all the intimate parts of herself that Lena didn’t let anyone know. Of _ course _ she didn’t listen to other people, but that didn’t mean she wanted to listen to someone who claimed to be her. Even though Lena knew it in her bones that it _ was _ her, she refused to dwell on the thought, a sickly feeling twisting her stomach as she endured some sort of deja vu, staring into her own eyes. She felt a deep sense of shame as she stood before her, as if she could feel disappointment emanating from the woman before her, and it made her feel flushed and irritable. 

“I don’t want to listen to you. _ Go.” _

The old lady Lena would become slowly pulled her hand back, a tremor in it that had nothing to do with the surrealness of the moment, any nerves or reservations, and only made her feel worse as she saw the signs of age. Lena was impressed of course - she didn’t look older than seventy, yet claimed to be nearly twice that - but it was still horrible to see, as if looking through a window leading to the future. Lena didn’t like what she saw.

“I picked this day for a reason, you know,” her old self continued, looking out at the view from the balcony with a wistful expression on her face, shoulders slumped with a vulnerable contentedness that could only speak of peace. She felt at home here, on the balcony at L-Corp. “I picked this day, because today is the day you forgive her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lena snapped again, an ache of longing in her chest.

With a soft sigh, the woman shook her head, strands of white hair caught in the wind as it pinched her cheeks pink, giving her a splotch of colour, aside from her eyes, which were far too piercing and knowledgeable for Lena’s liking. It was like she was staring through her soul, seeing all the dark parts she’d fought so hard to hide. But she couldn’t hide from herself.

“I think you do,” she gently replied. “And I want you to know that you’ll miss her every day of your life if you do this.”

“I’m not _ doing anything.” _

“Listen to me, Lena. You think you’re helping yourself by doing this, but you’re not. Trust me, I _ know. _ You only know how to _ hurt _ yourself.”

They fell into silence for a moment, and Lena gave her older self a hard look, full of irritation and hurt and anger, and watched the rapid rising and falling of her chest as the old woman held onto the edge of the balcony, gnarled fingers gripping it tightly so that her hands looked even more skeletal, tendons looking like they were about to break through the paper-thin skin.

“Be a dear and fetch an old woman a chair, would you?” she eventually said, startling Lena, who’d been so absorbed in staring at her that she’d almost forgotten she was real and not a reimagined statue of herself in old age. “I’m getting far too old to be standing all the time.”

Lena didn’t tell her she wanted her to leave. Instead, she found herself marching inside and fetching one of the guest chairs, more stable than her wheeled leather one, and set it down for the old lady. Despite herself, Lena found herself reaching out anxiously to held the old woman into her seat, feeling the brittle bones and softness of her arms, while her older self clutched her arms with surprisingly strong fingers, giving Lena a smile as she took in the wary look on her face.

And then they stood there in silence again for a moment, and Lena had so many questions she suddenly found herself burning to ask but dreading the answer. She’d said that her life hadn’t been a happy one, and Lena knew it in her bones that it was a life without Kara. How could she ever be unhappy if she was in it? She didn’t want to hear about that. 

So they stayed there in companionable silence, Lena standing and her older self sitting, as they watched the sunset set in, the sun disappearing behind the skyscrapers, which turned black as they were silhouetted against the sky, which was slowly, but surely, turning pink. Lena felt something inside her unwind at the sight; she’d always loved the rosy hues of a pink sunset, marvelling at how something so beautiful was made by nature. It had no purpose, the beauty of a sunset, but it always made her feel less tense, with the anticipation of the coming night making her stomach flutter.

“Ah, I’ve always loved a pink sunset,” the old woman said, her hands clutching the arms of the chair as she craned her head over the edge of the balcony. She was smiling and her eyes shone, almost as if she was about to cry. “And that’s all you’ll get, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll forgive her tonight. You’ll forgive her but you’ll still be angry and stubborn, so you won’t do anything about it. But you’ll come out onto the balcony at sunset, at the end of the day, and you’ll wait and you’ll hope. You’ll hope that she misses you as much as you miss her and that she’ll come, because you can’t bring yourself to swallow your pride enough to ask her to come. This time of night was always your favourite, because she’d come so often before, and you were so silly that you’d wait here for her, bringing a spare change of clothes to the office so you could look good as you waited for her to show up. It was full of the possibility of her. You think that she’ll show up eventually, because it’s Kara, and she’s terrible at keeping her distance. One day she’ll surely show up in her suit, apologise once more, and you’ll forgive her this time. And you’ll tell her you love her.”

Turning rigid beside her, Lena curled her hands into fists, swallowing the lump in her throat and the painful urge to cry that closed her throat up and made her eyes sting with tears. She wanted to object, to tell her that she was wrong, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment as she listened to her secrets come tumbling out of the mouth of this woman that she didn’t know as well as she knew her. It was mortifying and humiliating, but all Lena could do was stand there silently and listen to her destiny.

“You’ll stand here every evening for months, watching the sunsets, enjoying the pink skies, and all the while you’ll hope that she comes. Each day you’ll die a little bit more inside when she doesn’t, until you move to Metropolis, because it’s easier to give in than to let yourself hope every day that this time she’ll come. And you don’t even know that she’s listening. Every day, she’s flying past and she’s listening to your heartbeat, wishing she could come to you, if only you asked her to. Right up until the day you move to Metropolis.”

Lena drew in a shuddering breath, feeling her heart ache painfully as if a knife was being twisted in it, her face spasming with hurt as she glanced down at herself. The woman was staring ahead, a faraway look in her eyes and her face twisted the painful memories, and the sight of it broke Lena’s heart.

“And you think you’ll be fine, and that you’ll move on and get over her. You just need a little bit of time. But you have time, and it doesn’t change a thing. So you adopt a baby girl.”

At the sharp intake of breath, the old woman looked up at her and smiled tenderly, a warm look of love in her eyes that caught Lena off guard, thinking herself incapable of feeling something that could make her face soften like that. She couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how she always looked at Kara. 

“Yes, you have a daughter. And you name her Kara, because you loved her so much and you hope that this baby can fill that gap. But she can’t, because it’s a different kind of love that no one else can replace, but you love your daughter anyway. You throw yourself into being a good mom, the way you always wished yours was, and you _ are _ good, and your company is a multi-billion-dollar empire. A force for good. You have everything you’ve ever wanted.”

They fell into a small lapse then, with Lena frozen to the spot, a devastated look on her face as she waited for the old woman to continue, to break her heart some more as she listens to how her life is destined to unfold because of her stupid. Even though she didn’t want to listen to her, Lena can’t bring herself to look away now, so enraptured in it that she can’t even move.

“And you just keep doing more and more great things. You win _ so many _ awards - I couldn’t even tell you how many. I lost count in the end. You spend all of your time at the office, inventing new things and reinventing the world. There’s so much good that you do, wiping out poverty and famine and creating sustainable resources and technology that everyone in the world will eventually be using. You’re there at all of your daughter’s school plays and you watch her get first place at the science fairs, you’re there at her soccer games, whether she wins or loses, and you take photos of her and her date on prom night. You walk her down the aisle and hold your granddaughter in your arms, and you watch her grow up too. Along the way, you uncover secrets of the universe that should be impossible. You slow your ageing with the groundbreaking medicines you create and you figure out the theory of time travel.”

She cut off for a moment, dissolving into a fit of coughing as she fumbled for a white handkerchief in her pocket, covering her mouth as her narrow shoulders shook with the effort. Lena crouched beside her, hands nervously fluttering as she looked for some way to help.

“Can I get you some water?”

Shaking her head, the old lady patted her chest as she bunched the handkerchief in her hand, settling back in her chair as she waved away Lena’s concern.

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you, dear,” she assured her.

Although, Lena could see the rings beneath her eyes and the hollowed-out cheeks. She was dying, that much was clear. Perhaps it was from nothing but old age, which wasn’t surprising at a hundred and twenty-seven but was still unnerving for Lena to witness firsthand.

“Where was I?”

“Time travel.”

“Ah, yes. You’ll think about using it, when you perfect it at sixty. You step down and let your daughter run L-Corp, and you think about going back and forgiving Kara, or seeking her out in your own time. But you think she’s living her own life now, a happy one without you. So you don’t. You hide it away and you let her live her life, while you watch yourself be surrounded by family as your daughter has kids, and then they all have kids, until you’re still there a century later. When you’re a hundred and eleven, you put yourself up in an assisted living home, and your family visits you every week, but it’s lonely. You live in a white room and it’s cold and robots bring you your meals and no one cares about your existence anymore. And you know you’re old - I mean, look at me - and you know there’s not much time left, and all these years there’s been this thing missing inside you, so you decide to reach out.”

Falling silent, she swallowed thickly, her wrinkled lips pressing together into a flat line, as if trying to stop her lips from trembling. Lena felt a hollowness in her stomach, a sickly feeling of weakness that made her feel like her legs were going to give out from under her weight. Her shallow, ragged breaths were loud in her ears as she waited for what came next.

“And you finally see her again, a hundred and one years, five months and thirteen days after the last time you saw each other. It’s one of the best and worst days of your life. She still looks the same and she brings you plumerias, like all those years ago, and she looks at you with so much love it breaks your heart. You tell her you forgive her, and you tell her that she was the love of your life. You talk about everything you did, all the things you created and how you thought about coming after her, but realised she had her own life. And she-”

Drawing in a shuddering breath, her older self clenched her jaw for a moment, before continuing, her voice raw with pain and uneven, as if she was on the cusp of crying, of giving in to the feeble tremble inside her heart that made her words shaky.

“She tells you that everyone she’s ever loved is gone. She’s all alone - she’d been all alone all this time - and she’s not happy, she doesn’t have a nice life by herself. There’s been no one else for her either. There’s been nothing but loss and grief. You’ll both realise your mistakes and she’ll ask you to go with her, so she can take care of you for what little time you have left. And you’ll say no, because, after all this time, you can’t bear the thought of her taking care of you while you’re like this.”

The older version of Lena swept a hand at her emaciated body, letting out a short laugh that fell flat, before swallowing thickly, her gorge rising in her thin, wrinkled throat. 

“You don’t want her to be with you as an old lady, and she’ll beg you, but you’ll refuse. It breaks your heart to do it, because you want her to stay more than anything, but you don’t want her to watch you die. And you know it, you can _ feel _it. Your body has been pushed past the normal parameters of a human body, and you’re grateful for the time you spent with your family, but you’d wake up and wish that you’d died, because you’ve spent your whole life grieving for her, festering like a bad wound in your heart. But that one day … that one day is a gift. She cries, and so do you, and you hold each other in your bed and she kisses your face and your hands, and you wish you could kiss her lips, but you’re an old lady now. She deserves to love someone else.”

She was crying now. Lena could hear it in her voice. Her eyes were shining with tears, even if she was too stubborn to let them fall, even now in her old age, but her voice was thick with them, each word seeming to get stuck in the old woman’s throat, before she got them out. And Lena couldn’t blame her, because her eyes were stinging too, and she could feel the deep ache of loss, of helplessness, and it felt like her chest had been opened up and something had been torn out of her. It hurt in a way that missing Kara all these months hadn’t. She’d imagined that a temporary pain, but she’d never imagined it’d last a century.

“So you tell her to go, and she asks you- she asks you if it was worth it. And you have to tell her no. Because it wasn’t. You love your daughter and your family, you love the legacy of your work and all the awards you’ve won, but none of it was worth it. It was all meaningless without her to share it with, without her by your side. And it’s the biggest regret of your life.”

“And then what?”

Those green eyes looked up at her with a hard look in them, expectant, as if waiting for Lena to give her the answer. But Lena didn’t want to. She refused to believe that was it, that this was the ending of her and Kara’s story. So she stood there, arms crossed over her chest and a slight jut to her chin, and waited. After a few moments, her old self sighed heavily, before it turned into a quiet chuckle.

“I’d forgotten how stubborn I was.”

Giving her a haughty look that wasn’t quite convincing as Lena blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay, her shoulders slumped in resignation as she stood with her arms limply crossed over her chest, and eventually her old self seemed to take pity on her. Lena looked a sorry sight, her stricken grief written all over her face as she took in the pitiful story of her life.

“And then she leaves,” the woman said, a heaving sigh expelled from between her bloodless lips, making her deflate in her seat until it seemed like she was collapsing in on herself. “You tell her to think of you when the sky is pink, and you’ll be thinking of her too. And she goes, and that’s it. All you ever have is pink skies and what if’s. And there’s no after. No happy ending. You’ll stop eating and you’ll want to die, until you decide to try your time travel device yourself. You get it out of your vault and you pick a date and you come back with one of your old keycards, because you realise how wrong you were. There’s no meaningful life for either of you without the other. Only pink skies. And that’s not enough.”

Silence blanketed them as they were both left alone with their emotions, and Lena felt a strange sense of kinship with the older woman, knowing that she would know how she felt. Perhaps she even felt the same way, and her older self hadn’t mastered the art of processing her emotions. It made Lena feel less alone, for a brief moment, as they both silently mourned the loss of the same woman. It was strange, yet comforting. And then Lena sighed heavily, leaning against the edge of the balcony as she looked out at the pink sky, slowly darkening, heading towards violet, and spoke without looking at the other woman.

“What now?”

A small chuckle came from beside her. “Well, that’s up to you, isn’t it?”

Lena felt her stomach lurch and she quickly glanced down at the woman, finding her staring back at her. “And what- what about you?”

“I _ am _ you. According to my calculations, the future will split into alternate realities. Every decision we make fractures our universe, over and over again, for each person. When I go back to the future … I’m not sure if I’ll continue my life from that universe. Perhaps I’ll cease to exist because you made a different decision than I did. I can’t say for sure.”

“You want me to pick her.”

“I’m you, Lena. You want to pick her too. We want the same thing.”

Chewing on the inside of her lip, Lena nodded slowly, a thoughtful, clouded look on her face. She _ did _ want to pick Kara, she knew it with every fibre of her being. In that moment, she didn’t care about whether she was hurt or not, she was seized by the terrible fear that she’d never see Kara again. Not for a hundred and one years. The thought was unbearable, no matter how she felt like now, and Lena knew that she couldn’t spend her life watching pink skies come and go as she fell deeper into a pit of loneliness. Not if she could do something about it. And here was her chance, offered up to her on a silver platter by none other than herself, a withered old lady on the verge of dying, who had spent her whole life missing her best friend. Lena didn’t want that life for herself - here was herself _ telling _her that.

“So what happens now?”

Closing her eyes, the woman sat in the fading sunlight, a faint yellow light making her skin look sickly and sallow. Yet, she looked happy. Sitting there in the fresh air, the sunsets she loved so much painted across the sky, she looked alive, and Lena watched her closely as she waited for a reply. Somehow, she felt responsible for this other version of herself.

“Let an old lady re-live her youth for a moment longer. I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to be young and beautiful, waiting for my love to come to me on this balcony.”

Lena did as she asked, standing at her side like a silent sentinel, giving her what little she asked for in exchange for the second chance the woman had delivered Lena. If she was to go back to a future that no longer existed, one of despair and loneliness and pink skies while she thought of Kara and their wasted time, Lena would give her this small kindness. A moment of freedom in the open, to pretend that she was young again.

And then the woman opened her eyes once more, a clear green that was still just as disarming as the first time Lena had realised they were so familiar, and she feebly tried to push herself to her feet. Reaching for her, Lena gently cradled her thin, bony arms in her strong, unblemished hands and carefully hauled her to her feet.

“There’s one more thing,” the old woman said, fishing a scrap of paper out of her pocket. 

Lena took it with a brow puckered with confusion, unfolding the small scrap to stare down at familiar writing that had been scrawled a little shakily across it. A date, a phone number and a name. A question in her eyes, she looked back up.

“I love my daughter very much,” the old lady firmly told her, “you’ll love her too.”

Nodding, Lena curled her fingers around the piece of paper and stared at the woman, finding herself speechless as she opened and closed her mouth, staring at the wrinkled lines that blurred familiar features. She wasn’t even sure she wanted kids, yet here was her future self giving her the information Lena needed to adopt the same little girl, with the wishful thinking that she’d raise her with Kara this time. Lena wasn’t sure if she would, but she tucked it safely in her pocket anyway.

“I should go now. You know what you need to do.”

Lena felt a spasm of panic and she bit her bottom lip as she held a hand out to stop the woman before she could even move. There were so many things she wanted to say, wanted to ask before her glimpse of this possible future was gone forever, but she found words failing her. She settled for what was most important.

“Thank you.”

“Thank me by giving us a happy life. A meaningful life,” the old woman said, giving her a wavering smile as she reached up and cupped Lena’s cheek in her hand. 

She gave her a searching look, and Lena felt small and childish beneath her gaze, pinned beneath her green eyes and rooted to the spot. Even when she found herself wrapped in a gentle hug, she let it happen, the featherlight touch of dry lips brushing her cheek, overcome with so many conflicting emotions. Perhaps it was intuition, or maybe she remembered being twenty-six and heartbroken, but Lena needed that hug at that moment and the old woman seemed to know it. Lena slowly returned it, feeling the bumps of her spine and the jutting ribs, and felt a knot of tension unwind inside her chest. 

When the old lady pulled back, touching her cheek for one more brief moment, Lena gave her an uncertain smile, nodding with finality, and the old woman mirrored her expression, giving Lena that strange feeling again. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to something like that. 

“Now, I really should go.”

“Let me call you a car,” Lena offered, suddenly overcome with concern for her future self, who seemed faded and diminished after their talk. 

Waving her concerns aside, the woman smiled and shook her head, already shuffling towards the door. Lena made to move after her, a hand stretched out after her and a somewhat mournful look on her face. It was strange to say goodbye to the person she hadn’t yet become, and most likely never _ would _ become. 

“No, no. You stay. Enjoy the rest of the sunset for me, and _ call her.” _

“I will,” Lena promised.

Placated, the older version of Lena nodded and turned, stepping through the open door and gripping the frame. She paused once more and glanced back over her shoulder, a peaceful expression on her face as she smiled faintly, the lines deepening at the corners of her eyes.

“I know you’re going to give us a happier future,” she slowly said, picking her words carefully as Lena expectantly watched on. “I’d give up anything for that. But … think of me sometimes, just in case I’m gone. Remember me and think about what could’ve been, when you’re feeling stubborn and prideful.”

Lena felt her eyes sting with tears and she let out a choked, shaky laugh as she reached up to wipe at her eyes, hearing the quiet chuckle of the old woman too, before she sighed softly and continued.

“Think of me when the sky is pink.”


	3. Chapter 3

After the old lady was gone, never to be seen again, Lena stood alone on the balcony and watched the sky turn from pink to purple to black, rooted to the spot as she stared down at the sight spread out before her in a twinkling map of lights and shadowed buildings arranged in uniform blocks like giants assembled in a row. The night took on a cold edge as the wind snatched at her and numbed her fingers, but she couldn’t feel it at all. In fact, she felt quite numb all over.

Once night truly settled in, she somehow found it within herself to turn her back on the no longer pink sky and stagger into her bright office, looking sickeningly sparse and antiseptic like a hospital ward, a washed-out white illuminated by the stark glow of the fluorescent light bulb. Lena could barely stand to look at it, a dull pain behind her eyes and a hollowness inside her as she suddenly envisioned herself in a self-imposed isolation decorated just so in the distant future. It suddenly seemed cold and unwelcoming.

Yet she couldn’t bring herself to leave as her mind reeled from her meeting with her future self, so she grabbed her decanter of whiskey and a clean glass and made herself at home on the colourless couch, sloshing a generous dose of amber liquid into her cup and draining it all at once. It burned its way down her throat, setting her on fire and pooling warmly in her stomach, fighting to keep the coldness that slithered down her spine at bay. It was a losing fight, and a shiver of unease ran through Lena as her skin rippled with goosebumps, feeling for all intents and purposes like she’d seen a ghost. 

She couldn’t have imagined how unsettling it could be to see one's future self and hear how her life had been squandered by her mistakes, yet it had seemed to throw her so far off balance that she imagined that standing up would only lead to her staggering to one side and collapsing to the cold tiled floor.

Instead, Lena drank and drank, her glass seeming to magically refill itself the moment it was empty until the decanter was down to the last honeyed dregs of liquor swilling around the bottom. She drank those last few drops too, savouring the way it set her throat on fire, burning it hoarse and making her cough, unable to endure the searing pain any longer as her throat constricted and constricted until Lena felt like oxygen couldn’t even find its way down the narrow passage to her lungs.

Eventually, it all became too much, and with the whiskey leaving her vulnerable, and a headache pulsing behind her eyes, she burst into tears in the solitude of her wan office. Time seemed to have little influence on her as she muffled her sobs into a pillow, staining it with what little was left of her red lipstick, feeling all at once so young, yet old as she lived in the glimpse of her future.

The night seemed to drag on, yet mercifully pass by in a flash, the sky lightening to a dismal grey as Lena wallowed in her shock. When she finally climbed to her feet in a daze, the sun was a thin sliver of burning orange on the horizon, bruise coloured clouds drifting across the sky, and she left everything behind, including her coat, as she stepped out of her office and moved through the hallways as if she was in a dream. It wasn’t uncommon for her to be at the office after hours, and a few times she’d stayed overnight too, but the faint odour of liquor that ensconced her like a cloud wasn’t typical and as she lurched past a security guard and a janitor, their gentle concerns fell on deaf ears.

Riding the elevator down to the lobby, Lena staggered outside and was buffeted by a gust of cold wind that hit her like a slap in the face, skin rippling with goosebumps and a shiver running down her spine. Still, she didn’t even hesitate as she put one foot in front of the other. On and on, she walked, with no destination in mind, only the horrible gut-wrenching emptiness of her fate looming ominously before her as she walked in the deep shadows of soaring buildings.

For as long as Lena could remember, her life had been a long string of tragedies, and it was a devastating blow to be presented with the cold fact that her life would amount to nothing more than that in the end, no matter how well her business did and how many great-grandchildren she had. What would be the point of it all? In the end, when she was alone in a white room, consumed by her regret and guilt and grief, feeling her heart break a little bit more every day, what would be the point in it all? A life that wasn’t worth living was no life at all.

Eyes bloodshot and ringed with dark shadows, she walked and walked, pale and shivering and her ears ringing faintly like the irritating hum of a fly, and nobody stopped her or asked her if she was okay. The rich smell of coffee and bacon wafted out of a diner, bringing on another round of sickening disgust, and loose-limbed and aching, Lena blinked back the stinging feeling in her eyes. She felt so drained and leaden that she imagined she could sleep for a week, if not for the reeling devastation that went around and around in her mind, a constant loop of envisioning what her life had in store for her. If, and only if, she didn’t fix this mess she let herself dwell in.

She wouldn’t take full responsibility for it all though. No, Lena was not so numb that she couldn’t see that it was Kara’s fault too. All of it. The lies and the inevitable future if they stayed the course. It was Kara’s hubris that would lead her to think that she was being noble by letting Lena slip through her hands, and it hurt Lena to think that she would give up on them so easily if she did love her like the old woman said she did. And Lena was still mad. Perhaps not as mad as before, but she hurt so much it was like there was a constant ache in her chest, and she didn’t know how to swallow that hurt and her wounded pride and ask Kara to come to her. How were they supposed to bridge that schism that had opened up between them and fractured their friendship?

So Lena went for a walk. Head and heart aching in equal levels of pain, one from perhaps a bit too much whiskey and far from enough sleep, and the other from the utter devastation that left her hopeless and defeated, with no silver lining unless she made it herself, Lena walked until she had blisters on her feet and was _ almost _ warm. She didn’t quite think she’d ever be warm again, chilled to the bone by what seemed like a nightmare and a horror story rolled into one, but her cheeks were rosy from the miles her feet had eaten up on the cracked sidewalk, her breathing unsteady and heart beating steadily in her chest.

She walked all day, further than she could ever remember walking before. The sun rose and the sky lightened, turning powder blue as wispy clouds ambled along slowly. People flowed around her on the streets, bundled up in coats and sipping coffee, talking on phones or arm in arm, pushing children. Everyone had someone except for her. 

The sun followed its trajectory to the middle of the sky and then completed its journey towards the horizon and Lena found herself lapping back towards L-Corp, to home and comfort, the only place she had, and the only place she _ would _ have if she didn’t pluck up the courage to do something about it. The city thrummed around her and her heartbeat was rapid and fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings, fingers curling and uncurling as she walked, each breath ragged and hitching, as if she was silently sobbing, even though her eyes were bone dry. So dry that they burned, her eyelids seeming to stick as she blinked, her mouth like sawdust and her steps shuffling along the pavement as if she was still drunk, even though her body had burned off the whiskey hours ago.

Without even making a conscious decision or even meaning to go there, Lena ended up standing in the shadows cast by the tall building stretching up before her, all chrome and glass. Blinking owlishly as the late afternoon sunlight reflected off the windows, Lena finally came to a stop, before she stepped towards the sliding doors and into the cool lobby in yesterday’s clothes.

Her employees were starting to leave for the day, the elevators opening to dump out a dozen people in suits and dresses, slumped shoulders and bright looks in their eyes at the idea of going home for the day. Lena was almost tempted to turn around and follow them back out, to go home and shower and drink herself to sleep. Instead, she climbed into the elevator and let it whisk her away to the top floor.

Back in her office, it had the still air of a room undisturbed. Yet the empty decanter had been refilled and put back where it came from, clean glasses lined up beside it and any signs of her overnight indulgence in a bit too much whiskey vanished from sight. Even the air didn’t hold the honeyed smell of liquor, but a sweet floral scent from a bouquet of fresh flowers to replace the wilting ones on the sideboard. Her desk was neatly arranged, chair safely tucked in and a stack of papers waiting to be signed tomorrow.

Tempted to reach for the decanter of liquor once more, Lena dropped down behind her desk instead, her body slumping with relief after a sleepless night and more walking than she could ever remember doing. Her feet ached and her mouth was dry and she leant back in her chair and gently swayed back and forth on the swivelled stand, feeling jittery and frayed at the edges. 

The sun was on the verge of setting when she jerked up straight in her seat, white-knuckled and face pinched with fear, one thought at the forefront of her mind as she turned in her chair and stared out the window. All she had to do was call her name; she’d come, undoubtedly. It was no good fretting and making herself sick with worry when she knew what she had to do. Maybe it wouldn’t work out. Kara might come and the conversation would fall apart, and maybe Lena would be able to move on then, get the closure her older self never had. That might be enough to change the course of her life too, even if it wasn’t the future she’d envisioned for herself. One word would give her the answers she needed.

Climbing to her feet, she felt unsteady and loose-limbed as she moved towards the balcony door, her body moving of its own accord. Her hand reached out and pulled the door open, letting in the cold air as it buffeted her, the sky still cloud-strewn and blue, even as the colour deepened towards purple. With tentative nervousness, she moved towards the edge of the balcony, looking up at the sky, empty save for a lone plane streaking overhead, and rested her forearms on the wall. Her hands were shaking and her bottom lip trembled, a lump seeming to choke her as she opened and closed her mouth. It was harder than she’d thought it would be. 

Eventually, she managed to get it out. Just one word, just her name, the sound of it sweet and heartachingly beautiful in her mouth as Lena’s heart yearned for her to come. Her voice was barely more than a wistful sigh, and she didn’t know if she’d hear her. Not unless she was listening.

“Kara,” she breathlessly said to the wind, the name snatched out of her mouth. _ “Kara, Kara, Kara.” _

“Lena.”

She almost jumped out of her skin in fright, heart leaping in her chest with equal parts adrenaline and surprise, and Lena’s pallid cheeks flooded with colour as she felt embarrassment wash over her. But there she was, as expected. She had doubted for a moment that Kara would come to her. No matter how they’d last parted ways, with angry words and tear-stained cheeks. 

But here she was, her blonde hair ruffled by the wind, scarlet cape swishing around her calves and a hopeful look in her wide blue eyes, which had been swimming with tears and sadness the last time they’d seen each other. Kara looked as beautiful and determined as ever, a solid set to her shoulders that still didn’t account for the strength hidden in her wiry muscles. She looked tense, braced for whatever conflict came next, and Lena found herself speechless for the second evening in a row, confronted by another person that she hadn’t anticipated a conversation with, despite the fact that she’d called Kara to her this time.

As if sensing that she didn’t quite know what to say, Kara gave her a lopsided smile that made her heart ache, clasping her hands before her and nervously fiddling with her fingers. “It’s been a while.”

Swallowing thickly, Lena managed to get a wavering reply out from between her numb lips. “A few months isn’t so long. It’s not- it’s not a century. A lifetime.”

Brow creasing with endearing bewilderment, Kara toed the floor of the balcony with a red boot, seeming shy and wary as she peered up at Lena from beneath her bangs. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Lena found herself replying.

She didn’t mean to let herself become vulnerable before her, to betray the deepest parts of her heart where her wounds dwelled, but it was a simple fact that she’d missed Kara. It was like a piece of her had been cut out, and now she found it standing there before her, looking as flustered as her reporter friend had always been, with none of the bravado of the caped hero she looked like. The sight of her in that suit as Kara, for the second time, was no less breathtaking to Lena. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but quietly reel from the surprise of it as she tried to reconcile the two in her mind again. Of course, she’d known for months now, but knowing and seeing were two very different things, and she’d never given herself the time to get used to this.

“I’m … surprised you called.”

“So am I,” Lena murmured, her stomach clenching with painful longing, “I just- it’s been a- a hard few days. Things have … changed. I- well, I didn’t- I _ don’t _ want to spend my life hating you.”

“Neither do I,” Kara replied, her voice low and unsteady, almost as if she was afraid.

Separated by half a dozen feet, it brought back so many suppressed feelings that Lena found herself struggling to keep her composure, to keep it all contained as it warred within her. Old, smouldering anger and overwhelming sadness, gut-wrenching disappointment and heartbreaking pain seemed to knock the breath from her lungs as she stood there, fiddling with her fingers, her whole body shaking - whether that be from the cold or the way that Kara’s presence made her feel undone - and she didn’t know how to voice it all. How were you supposed to explain the multitude of ways the love of your life hurt you? 

Lena hadn’t even realised the depths of her own feelings for Kara, not to the magnitude of her being the love of her life. Perhaps she’d known it was more than just a crush, that Kara was her home and the keen absence felt inside her that left her hollow, but Lena hadn’t thought she’d been able to love someone so much as to ruin her life with her stubborn pride. Not until she’d had to come back from the future to kick some sense into herself.

“You hurt me,” Lena slowly said, the words faint and faltering, as if she was on the verge of tears. “I know you- you didn’t mean to, but you did. I think you … you knew it would hurt me. Honestly, I’m surprised you told me at all.”

She let out a quiet laugh, strained and stunted, falling flat in the quietness that enveloped them on the balcony. Lena couldn’t quite rid her voice of the bitterness that threatened to swallow her up, bristling pride and wounded ego making her colder and sharper than she ordinarily was around Kara. As Supergirl, she shouldn’t be surprised by the distant demeanour, having found themselves on opposite sides on more than one occasion, clashing over silly things that had turned out to be nothing they couldn’t overcome. But this was something different.

It was personal and intimate, a chasm between their hearts and insurmountable distance between them that Lena wasn’t sure they’d be able to bridge. No matter how hard they tried. But at the same time, they had to, because she couldn’t go on like this, hurting and empty and numb. Not for a century, a lifetime, or even one more day. It had been weighing heavily on her shoulders, grinding her beneath the burden of her heartbreak and solitude, and Lena was exhausted.

“I was trying to protect you.”

“You say that, but it’s not true and you know it. How many times did Supergirl have to save me because I was a target anyway? What difference would it have made if you told me? If you thought you were going to make me a target by knowing both of your identities, why did you let me know both of them separately?”

Mouth opening and closing, she watched Kara struggle for a few moments, expression clouded with the frustration that Lena felt inside, that she’d been feeling for a long time now. Eventually, her shoulders slumped beneath the red mantle hanging from them, and Kara deflated before her, so easily recognisable as the meek reporter who preferred to avoid confrontation where necessary. But there was still that stubborn look of determination in Kara’s blue eyes, pleading and urging her to listen, to give her a chance.

“It wasn’t- you didn’t need physical protection, I know that. I was just … I was trying to protect you from having your feelings hurt.”

“And whose fault would that have been, to begin with?” Lena haughtily replied, her lip curling slightly with contempt as her eyes shone with hurt. “You knew lying to me was wrong. You knew I’d only ever been lied to my entire life, that you were the only person I could trust. If you’d- if you’d been honest from the start … you know I would’ve understood.”

Eyes filling with tears, Kara took a small step towards her, a look of utter devastation on her face, as if Lena was breaking her heart with the truth. She had to duck her own head so that she didn’t have to see it, because Lena could feel her resolve wavering. It didn’t feel good to hurt Kara the way that she’d been hurt, to see it in her eyes and watch her feel the sharp sting of blame and accusation laid upon her. But it was the truth, nonetheless, and Lena had to speak it.

“I was afraid,” Kara said, her bottom lip quivering and words wobbling, “I was afraid I was going to lose you. I couldn’t _ bear _ it. I mean- you’re my best friend. I couldn’t lose you to a lie.”

“You wouldn’t have lost me if you’d _ told me.” _

Shaking her head, blonde curls ruffling in the wind, Kara gave her a tender look of sympathy, as if she knew something Lena didn’t, as if she was the holder of some truth that left Lena naive and oblivious. And she knew then, at that moment, that Kara loved her. There was no other explanation for her fumbling excuses and the gut-wrenching look of despair that made Lena’s heart ache in her chest. And she had to know for sure.

“I would’ve. I know it. And it would’ve killed me.”

_ “Why?” _ Lena asked, the word blunt and desperate, “why were you _ so _ scared of me leaving?”

With a soft smile, eyes bright with tears that she tried to blink back, Kara let out a quiet laugh as she reached up to wipe at her cheeks. It was a quiet sound, gently strangled as it worked its way up her throat and fell from trembling lips. Sniffing, she exhaled sharply and gave Lena a pointed look.

“You _ know _why,” Kara softly said.

Lena sucked in a sharp breath and felt her throat constrict, stomach lurching with the nervous fluttering of butterflies, keeping pace with the fast staccato of her heartbeat, and she couldn’t keep her mask of composure in place any longer as the truth struck home. Turning away to hide the emotions flickering across her face, Lena came to a pause.

At the edge of the balcony, she stared out at the sunset, at the dark giants silhouetted against the sky, and felt the tension bleed out of her as she took in the brilliant pink painted across the sky in a multitude of hues. It was beautiful and a sharp reminder that hit her like a punch to the stomach, grief and sadness for the old woman who she’d stood there with only yesterday and promised to think of. Whatever retort that had been on the tip of Lena’s tongue died in the wake of the rosy sky, salmon clouds backlit by the sun and fading to lavender as they blended with the encroaching dusk. 

“Pink skies,” she murmured, her brow crumpling as she curled her hands over the edge of the stone wall, knuckles white and tendons sharply jutting through her skin. “I’ve always liked this time of night, this colour sky.”

“I know,” came Kara’s faint response as she stepped up to the wall, leaving a few feet between them. “I listen for you, you know. When I fly overhead, I listen for your heartbeat. You’re always out here at sunset.”

Lena turned to look at her, pale and wide-eyed, listening to the words that the old woman had said to her. It made Lena want to cry. She hadn’t wanted her to be right about the dark future in stock for her, but Lena was frightened of what it would mean to give her heart over to Kara in full and trust her to look after it for her long life ahead of her. Scared and confused, she just stared at Kara, mystified by her, this person who had such a monopoly on the course of her life. Yet Lena wanted her just as badly as she had all those months ago, and if her future self was anything to go by, she’d always want her.

“I want more than pink skies,” Lena said, her voice breaking as she turned back towards the view.

There was a momentary pause before Kara sidled a step closer, leaning against the wall. “Okay.”

It was halting and uncertain, and Lena closed her eyes, the view painted on the inside of her eyelids as she breathed in the cold air, feeling it fill her up, bolster her and give her the courage to tell Kara the truth. Letting out a slow, shaky breath, she blinked herself back to the moment, taking in the slow-changing myriad of pink shades, and then turned to Kara.

And all at once it came rushing out of her like a dam bursting, her eyes stinging with tears that she hadn’t imagined her body could even make after so many hours spent crying the night before. Suddenly highly aware of the fact that she was in yesterday’s clothes, with yesterday’s makeup half cried off and smudges, the odour of whiskey clinging to her in a toxic cloud, Lena came apart at the seams, feeling so drained that she could barely stand on her feet as her throat closed up and her words came out as half a sob.

“I don’t want to not see you for a hundred and one years. I don’t want to spend my life missing you and thinking about what we threw away. I don’t want to be alone in an empty home and say goodbye to you after a lifetime spent without you.”

A bewildered look of amusement flashed across Kara’s face, confusion in the depths of her blue eyes as the corners of her mouth lifted ever so slightly. She couldn’t make heads or tails of Lena’s babbling, and it all seemed vaguely funny to Kara, even as she remained sombre for the most part, repentant for the sake of hurting Lena.

“We deserve more than pink skies.”

“I think … perhaps … I’m missing something.”

A laugh bubbled up inside her but never made it past Lena’s lips as she blinked owlishly at Kara. She came to a pause in her tirade, biting her lower lip as she debated whether or not to tell her the truth, despite how absurdly unbelievable it sounded. But, then again, they’d found their way into this mess _ because _ of lies. Whether Kara believed her or not, Lena wouldn’t lie.

“I … saw myself. My … future self.”

Staring blankly at her, Kara frowned. Wariness crossed her face as she looked at Lena, almost as if waiting for a punchline, which never came. “I don’t- what do you mean? Like … you dreamt your future?”

“No,” Lena flatly replied, “I mean I _ saw _ my future self. She came _ here _. Yesterday. She- she told me about my life, and … about you. You and me. I know this all sounds …”

“Crazy?”

Lena shrugged indifferently, her eyes straying towards the sunset once more, captivated by the sight before her. “Call it what you like. It was me. I mean … not me, but- well, it _ was _ me.”

Inching closer, Kara cocked her head to the side, leaning against the wall as she gave Lena a questioning look. “And what did she - you - say?”

Drawing in a shuddering breath, Lena met her eyes with a level stare and gave her a tight-lipped smile. “That we wouldn’t see each other for a hundred and one years. There were quite a few months and days at the end of that too, but … a whole century. That’s how long we didn’t see each other for. And she-”

Faltering, Lena cleared her throat, finding it hard to get the words out. But she continued, fumbling for the words to explain it all, to confess her feelings in the same breath, because she couldn’t be honest without telling Kara the whole truth. It frightened up, and she wondered if Kara was listening to her fluttering heartbeat at that moment, wondering why she felt so anxious.

“She said that we wouldn’t see each other again until I was- until it was too late. I was … old. I almost didn’t believe she was me, but … she was. And she knew it all. Everything I was going to do with my life, and everything- everything I would lose. How meaningless it would all be … without _ you.” _

Kara’s intake of breath was audible as Lena held her stare, realisation dawning on her face, the concerned lines etched into her skin softening and smoothing out into a slack expression of surprise. Her lips parted and the breath caught in her throat, and Lena was numb and helpless before her as she waited for a response.

“What did she- what did she say?” Kara asked, her voice shaking and throat bobbing as she swallowed thickly, uncertainty in her eyes as they shone brightly, as if with a film of tears. _ “Exactly. _ What are we supposed to-”

Pressing her lips together in a flat line, Lena swallowed the lump in her throat, muscles working in her jaw as she stared back out at the city and the fading sunlight, the dusk taking on a cold edge. She felt cold all over, suppressing the urge to shiver as she thought about the lonely future.

“She said that you were the love of my life. My last love. And you- you came when I asked you to, at the end. And we reconciled and shared our lives with each other. We both thought the other was better off, but … well, we were _ both _ unhappy. We wasted our lives. I had a daughter, and grandkids and on and on, and I … L-Corp was everything I could ever wish for. But _ you weren’t there. _ So none of it mattered and- I was _ so lonely. _ I could hear it in her voice. So heartbroken and full of grief. She missed you every day of her life. And at the end you- when you came, you asked to take care of her - of _ me - _ but I was old and I said no. So that was it. That was all we got. One day, more than a century from now. And we talked about how the sky was pink and how we’d- how we’d think of each other then. But I-I want more than that. I want more than a sunset; I want all of it with you. I don’t want that to be my life, my future.”

She didn’t even realise she’d started crying as she let the words pour out of her, a tangled answer to Kara’s question, probably raising more questions in the process, but Lena drew in a hitching breath and felt it catch in her throat and felt the hot tracks of tears on her cheeks. A quiet sob worked its way past her trembling lips and she shook all over, hands balled into fists and so much sadness inside that she couldn’t bottle it up any longer. Her fears were larger than life, overflowing and pouring out of her as she stood in front of the person who had the power to cast them aside.

And then Kara was there, cupping Lena’s face in her hands as she ducked her head slightly to meet her downturned gaze, a sweet smile curling her mouth even as tears traced their way down her cheeks too. Her thumb was achingly gentle as she wiped Lena’s tears away, quietly hushing her, and Lena was powerless to stand there, melting beneath the hot touch of her hands, feeling as if her knees were about to give way. It was all she could do to _ not _ collapse to the ground before Kara’s red boots.

“Lena. Lena, Lena, look at me,” Kara whispered, “I can’t imagine life without you; there _ is _ no life without you. I don’t- I don’t want to lose you. Without you … I might as well not exist. I promise you, we’ll have more than a sunset. I think that I- well, you already know it; I love you. And I’m going to love you for a very long time, it would seem.”

“But I’m so _ mad _ at you,” Lena sobbed, a mournful look on her face as she reached up to grip Kara’s wrists in her slender fingers, hands unmarked by the ravages of time. “I don’t want to be. And I- I’m not as mad as I was, but I’ve been hurting every day for months, and I don’t- it won’t go away. It’s like … a piece of me has been taken away, and I don’t know how to get it back, because I can’t forgive you. I don’t know _ how. _ I can’t lose you but I don’t know how to love you like this.”

Pulling away from her, giving her a look of such sorrow that it made Lena’s stomach lurch, Kara swept her cape back in a gesture that would’ve been comically theatrical under different circumstances but was sincere and desperate at that moment as she sank to her knees before Lena. Holding her cold hands in her own, warming them as she grazed the pads of her thumbs over the knuckles, Kara looked up at her like a repentant angel, golden in the fading sunlight as it spilt across her face and made her look radiant in her costume.

“I promise you, Lena Luthor, I will do everything in my power to make it up to you. I’ll spend the rest of my life begging at your feet if that’s what it takes. Just- please don’t go. Not again. I’m not afraid of much, but I’m afraid to lose you. I meant what I said; I might as well not exist without you, because … well, you’re the love of my life, and I don’t know how to live without a heart. You took it with you the moment we met. And I’m sorry that I’ve been so careless with yours, but I’ll spend forever putting it back together and I’ll do my best to make sure nobody hurts you again. Me least of all.”

With a shuddering breath and a determined set to her shoulder, Kara gave her a grave look as she squeezed her hands, a soft, tenderness to her expression as she knelt on the balcony. 

“So tell me to go, if you want, but I won’t leave you. You can be angry and hurt and push me away for the next century, if that’s how long it takes, but I’ll try every day to make it up to you. I swear that to you, because I love you. I’ve always been in love with you. I don’t know how to be any other way, to feel anything else. So just … tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it. Because I’ve been miserable for _ months _, and I can’t bear to be without you for a minute more. So just … tell me and I’ll do it.”

Lena opened and closed her mouth, shoulders slumped with exhaustion as her eyes burned with tiredness. Her face was blotchy from crying and she was tired down to her very bones, the air growing colder and colder, and she had the woman she wanted more than anyone else in the world kneeling at her feet, and all Lena could feel was resignation. She was tired of being angry, and her old self had been right yesterday when she said that she’d already forgiven Kara. In some small part, she had, even if the wound was still there, still raw and hurting. She forgave her and she gently urged her to her feet as the wind tossed her dark, tangled hair around her shoulders.

“For now, I just- I just want to watch the sunset. I have some thinking to do.”

Turning towards the sky, dusty rose beyond the skeletal towers thrusting towards the sky, they stood shoulder to shoulder, elbows brushing as the wind caressed their skin, and Lena watched the sky as it slowly faded from pink to purple. She watched and she thought of the old lady, and for a moment, she felt like she could feel her there, something almost tangible as if there were three people on the balcony instead of two. And somewhere in the future, Lena hoped that old lady was happy, living a different life forged from that very moment, as she stood with Kara in contemplative silence. She thought of her under a pink sky, while the love of her life stood beside her, their whole lives stretched out ahead of them with innumerable pink skies and the promise of a different life with her last love.


End file.
